


Swim Matters

by Gemmaa



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Swimming, Awkward Boners, Gay Panic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-20 11:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22183270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmaa/pseuds/Gemmaa
Summary: In hopes of joining his college swim team Bambam gets help from the star studded player, Jackson.
Relationships: Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Jackson Wang
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	Swim Matters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The sad and lonely jackbam shippers who get no fics in return to get through their life](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+sad+and+lonely+jackbam+shippers+who+get+no+fics+in+return+to+get+through+their+life).



> This was last years drab after that one got7 vlive, you know the one XD 
> 
> 18, 21.

"What?!" Yugyeom practicality exclaimed "I wouldn't let that guy anywhere near my privates." He sat back in his chair "You know he's a fag, right? I know you know, everyone does"

Bambam looked around nervously. Yugyeom had a loud voice and there were several people from the swim team around in the cafeteria. He had begun to suspect that, much like Bambam himself, Yugyeom was nervous about starting up at collegeㅡnew place, new people; in short all the usual anxieties that nonetheless proved terrifying to various degrees for each year's fresh intakeㅡbut his friend's habit of blustering through one's nerves by playing the cocky idiot was very different from his own tendency to try to blend into the background. The last thing he needed was to be labeled homophobic too.

"It's not gay, dude" he tried to explain, for a third time. "It's team stuff. It's just the way it is." He could see, from the expression on Yugyeom's face, that he still wasn't convinced.

To be truthful, Bambam wasn't entirely convinced either, but the mortification at the first swim meet had been so bad that he'd do pretty much anything to avoid it again. One of the things he was fast realizing he'd relied on considerably in high school was the class bell, and without its regular punctuation, he had already lost a sense of time on several occasions and had been late as a result.

One such incident had been the previous day: Bambam losing track of time while in the library and only looking up at the clock to find he had just minutes to make it across campus, get changed, and be poolside for the first session of the semester. Breathless and red faced, he'd thrown his stuff into the nearest empty locker, hopped awkwardly into his suit, and dashed to join the loose crowd waiting for the coach (who himself, with irony Bambam probably should had expected, been fifteen minutes late).

If he'd noticed the looks from the other guys, he'd put them down to discreetly checking out the new people on the team, trying to get an early measure on who might stick things out and who would fall by the wayside in the first couple of weeks. Bambam's own swim history had involved being in the top few competitors from his high school club, though the whole thing was taken a little less seriously than at college.

Still, he'd been told he had enough talentㅡalbeit rawㅡto carry him over, and while he wasn't on a sports scholarship, there had been mutterings of 'making a name' for himself if he could figure the balance between academic and swimming obligations.

Bambam had even dared to wonder whether, when one of the older guys from the team pulled him aside at the end of practice, some of that raw, name-making talent might already have been spotted. The truth was altogether more cringe worthy.

"Dude, you need to do something about your stuff," the guy had told him, half a grin just showing. 

Bambam frowned.

"Did I take someone else's locker?" He supposed that was all too possible, given his hurry to get to practice.

The guy frowned a little, shook his head. That tease of a smile was still there. 

"Look, it's Bambam, right?" Bambam nodded. "Well, you gotta, y'know, sort out what's going on around your junk, Bambam. I mean, like, the hair and all."

Bambam involuntarily looked down. He could feel the hot flush already spreading across his cheeks. Sure enough, there was a fair amount of dark hair around his crotch, not all of it contained by the blue and white fabric of his high school Speedo. Not a ridiculous amountㅡhe was 18, not some animal but, he suddenly began to realize, certainly a lot more than he'd seen on any other guy that afternoon.

He wasn't sure what to say, desperately willing the blush to fade, and fighting the urge to cover his groin with his hands.

Perhaps the obvious embarrassment was what made the guy take pity on him. The smile seemed more genuine, at least, and he winked conspiratorially.

"The names Jaebum by the way. And look, didn't you have to 'fix' things down there at your high school team?" Bambam shook his head. "Jeez, okay. Well, you need to start trimming and maybe even shaving some of that stuff up, okay? Nobody wants to see that when you're in competitions."

Trimming? Shaving? Bambam was mentally scratching his head at the thought of the mechanics involvedㅡdo you use the same razor as for your face? How on earth would you angle the mirror so you'd get a good view? What if, heaven forbid you cut yourself?

The confusion must've been just as evident as the embarrassment. 

"Okay," Jaebum told him, "You know what, go talk to Jackson. He's our 'resident expert' on this stuff, he can sort you out." 

He made the quote marks around 'resident expert' with his fingers.

"Jackson. Right." Bambam was down to single-word sentences.

"Jackson is a good guy, he'll sort you." He put a comradely hand on Bambam's shoulder. "Part of being a dude, my friend. Don't stress it."

Bambam hadn't had to ask who Jackson was, at least. The 21 year old had already been pointed out, as the guy to beatㅡor just aspire to, by the assistant coach in the session before. Grinningly confident by the pool, he took the compliment with self-deprecating good humor.

He was also, Bambam had discovered, one of the most well known guys on campus and as schools went, even this liberal one, the rumours of Jackson's orientation was a buzz. Bambam like everyone else assumed it was true. Because it was, but Jackson obviously didn't have a hard time about it.

A quick, sharp wit helped, too, and the few guys who had thought it advantageous to verbally bash him had swiftly lost all cred as they discovered he could give it back just as readily as he could take it.

So, Bambam was really hoping that nobody around would overhear Yugyeom's idle teenage trash-talk and relay it to Jackson or any of his numerous friends, since he could really do without getting into trouble in his first week. Still cringing from the advice he'd been given, he'd turned to Yugyeom and told him the whole, awful story, only to have his friend focus entirely on the fact that Jackson was gay.

Was that an issue? To Bambam, the pressing concern was more about finding a time when Jackson was aloneㅡGod, imagine asking for help with an audience! And figuring out the best way to phrase the matter..

'I'm hairy..help!' sprang to mind, but that hardly seemed appropriate.

Nonetheless, he was on a deadline. It was Friday, and the next swim meet was Monday, which meant he needed to act fast. And, since Jackson probably lived off-campus, that really meant acting today, unless he wanted to spend all weekend worrying about finding some opportunity on Monday. And he really, really didn't.

Glancing up at the clock, he realized he was meantㅡaccording to the crumpled timetable in his pocket, to be in the library. Yugyeom had math (was the fear of being labeled a 'geek' another reason for the unnecessarily ramped-up attitude? Bambam wasn't sure) and so they split up in the corridor.

For a quiet guy, the library was a good space, and Bambam was glad it was near empty so he could distract himself with a physics textbook. If Yugyeom was quietly nervous about being branded a geek, then he'd probably find Bambam waiting there already: he sure did love his science.

By the time he looked up (a chapter ahead of the required reading the new class had groaned about), he realized the population of the library had changed around him while he'd been engrossed. Just about everyone was a stranger, mind, though he thought he recognized a couple of the girls talking quietly at a table across the room.

Then he saw, standing up from among the hushed whispers, Jacksonㅡgrin still fixed to his face, eyes rolling at some final joke. The older guy waved goodbye to the girls and walked across to a desk just a couple away from where Bambam was sitting. A desk, it dawned on Bambam, that he had Jackson to himself in perfect privacy.

He stood up, winced at the screech of chair on wooden floor, and picked his way through the other seats until he was standing in front of the other guy, by now looking down at his own array of spread books.

"Um.." Bambam started, tongue-tied a moment. "Uh, Jackson?"

Jackson looked up at him, one finger still pressing lightly at the point he was up to in his textbook. "Hey."

Bambam winced again, without being able to stop himself. "Um, Bambam. I mean, I'm Bambam."

Jackson smiled, patiently. "Okay, Bambam , it's good to meet you." He squinted a little. "Aren't you on the swim team?" Bambam nodded.

"Well, hopefully..I mean, my times in butterfly are pretty good, and my turns are getting better, but I still have trouble with backstroke and..Yea" He petered out as it dawned on him that he'd been rambling. Jackson still had that patient smile, though, he noticed.

"So what can I do for you, Bambam from the swim team with the backstroke he's still working on?"

Don't blush. Keep it cool. For Gods' sakes, don't blush.

"Yeah, well, I kinda need some help, and someone told me you were the best person to ask."

Jackson frowned a little, but then his face un-creased and he gave that same self-deprecating grin Bambam had seen by the pool.

"Oh, right..Well, you shouldn't believe everything Coach Hee, says, Bambam . If you need help with that backstroke, he's the best person to ask about it, not me."

Oh jeez, why did this have to be so awkward.

"Actually no, it's not really that," Bambam stuttered. He swallowed, throat feeling tight. "It's more about something kinda, well, personal. About..I don't know, trimming for competitions."

Jackson looked confused again. "Trimming for competitions..?" he echoed.

"Yeah, I mean..." Bambam choked out, "Trimming your..I mean, down around..Around your..Suit.

Dawning understanding. Jackson smile got broader and nodded a little. "Ah, okay, keeping your junk tidy, right?"

Bambam nodded, relief at being understood butting up against the sheer, near-physically-painful embarrassment of the topic.

"And someone told you to talk to me about that?"

Bambam nodded again. A wry edge crept into Jackson' expression.

"Of course they did. Well, I guess I'm your man. How can I help you, backstroke Bambam?"

He gulped. Did he really have to spell it all out, in excruciating detail?

"I just, I mean I've never.." Jackson was being patient, but not exactly jumping in and helping. Bambam gulped again, screwed up his courage. "Could you, y'know, help me out..With the shaving and stuff, I mean."

Jackson stared at him, motionless for a moment, then seemed to jerk into life again. "Sure, no problem at all. When do you need to..?"

Bambam looked at the clock. Just another couple of hours left of the day. Even knowing he would have Jackson' help, there was no way he could put this off until after the weekend, no way!

"Well, I have physics next, but after?" He tried to look suitably desperate.

Jackson was apparently convinced. He glanced at his watch, then back up at the younger boy. "Okay, that works I guess. Start the weekend fresh, right?" He winked at Bambam. "How about I meet you at the locker room in 90 minutes?"

Bambam let out a huge tension breath; it felt like he'd been holding it in for hours. "Yea, cool. Thanks man"

The older guy waved the thanks away with a slightly self-conscious gesture. "Don't worry about it; can't have our new team members showing us up, can we."

Physics seemed to crawl, not helped by the fact that while Bambam had experienced no problems grasping the first few chapters of the textbook, it seemed his new classmates had not found the going so smooth. After the fifth explanation of the same concept in rapid succession, even the tutor seemed about ready to give up, and the class ended with ten minutes on the clock still officially to run.

Bambam tried not to speed-walk to the locker room, but he certainly hurried, going against the flow of people as the campus began to empty. He arrived early, dropping his bag by the door and leaning against the painted block wall to wait for Jackson.

Was it normal to be so nervous? Until this point, Bambam had been focusing only on the potential for embarrassment should Jackson have refused to help him out. Now, with that all arranged, he was thinking for the first time about what, exactly, he and the older swimmer would be doing.

It wasn't like he hadn't been seen naked before. Some of the kids on his high school swim team had been shy, but Bambam had always taken a 'stare straight ahead and get on with your business' approach to changing and such, and not given it much thought. In fact, until it was brought up just the other day, he'd never really thought about how his changing body might look when clad briefly in a swimsuit.

Now, though, it was likely to be subject to probably the closest scrutiny since Bambam was born, and by someone who was effectively a total stranger. Bambam wasn't so bothered by the fact that Jackson was gayㅡthough, he admitted to himself, there was a shiver of uncertainty there too, but by the fact that the older guy might look at his nakedness and, three years behind in development as it was, find it something hilarious.

Bambam had seen Jackson by the pool, wearing nothing but the university's team Speedo, and the older student hardly deviated from the definition of "swimmer's physique." Jackson had a rich torso with nice shoulders tapering to a slim waist; the creases of muscle across his stomach; even, rich tan. He was shorter than your average swimming but he made up for it in speed. Jackson was in top shape, and Bambam wasn't sure he would ever match up, never mind before his first week of proper training.

The anxieties grew as the time lagged on, not helped by the fact that a small group of guys from Jackson's year had gathered across the hallway and kept casting curious glances over at Bambam by the door. Did he recognize any of them from the pool? Was he already the butt of some overly hairy joke he'd carry with him all semester; God forbid, all through his school career? Bambam felt his palms go damp, considered picking up his bag and walking away both from his meeting with Jackson and the swim team altogether.

Then, around the corner, came the man himself. Wide smile in place, as usual. Jackson greeted the group of his peers enthusiastically, slapping hands with some, hugging others; their raised voices weren't quite loud enough for Bambam to figure out what exactly they were discussing, but his growing paranoia left him almost convinced it had him as the subject of ridicule.

Eventually, Jackson turned away from them, and walked over to where Bambam stood blushing on his own.

"Bambam, my man, great to see you!" Even through his anxiety, Bambam couldn't help but smile some at Jackson' positivity. He shook the outstretched hand, remembering too late that his palms were wet.

"What you doing with the new guy, eh, Jackson?" The catcalls came loud and ringing, and Bambam thought the redness of his cheeks would burst into flames at any moment.

Jackson rolled his eyes at them, waved his hand at them as if swatting away the suggestions.

"Come on guys, me and Bambam here are going to work on his backstroke. You wish you could afford a trainer this good."

Hoots of laughter, good-natured Bambam supposed, as Jackson pushed through the locker room door and he followed through as quickly as he thought seemingly, hoping at the burn of stares on his back was just the stuff of his over-active imagination.

"So, let's get this sorted, yeah?" Jackson said, as the door swung shut behind them. He opened his locker; took out a battered looking black wash bag. "Do you have a razor?"

Bambam stared at him, feeling dumbly unprepared. Eventually he shook his head.

"Man, you really are green, aren't you?" Jackson shook his head in mock-desperation, and then reached back into his locker. "Lucky for you I have a spare; you can owe me sometime."

Bambam nodded, not quite trusting his voice all of a sudden.

"So, I'm guessing you'll need a trim and a closer fix-up, right?" Jackson obviously took Bambam 's silence as agreement, as he nodded to himself and threw a bottle at the younger boy. "You carry this; I'll bring the rest. Therapy room two should be unlocked, I'm guessing."

A row of small rooms for post-injury massage, doctor's visits, and such ran across the far wall of the locker room, and Jackson headed for the second door. Sure enough, the handle turned, revealing a simple examination couch, some cupboards, a sink, and a tiny shower cubicle in the corner.

"Perfect." Jackson observed, dumping his bag on the counter. Bambam set the bottle down carefully next to the bag, and then hopped up quietly onto the edge of the bench, hands tightly gripping the edges down by his knees. All of a sudden he felt young, very young, and Jackson comparatively very grown up.

Jackson turned around, looked Bambam over.

"Hmm, you may need to rethink the outfit, dude. Going to be tough to do this through your jeans and all."

Idiot! Bambam slid down off the fake leather cushion and reached for the button fly of his jeans. Deep breath: snap open the buttons, push the jeans down, remember you're still wearing shoes, try to clumsily toe them off while simultaneously bunched up in your trousersㅡall standard klutz stuff.

Finally, though, he managed to get free, standing in his socks, boxers, and a hoodie.

"Should I, um..I mean, my suit, you think?" he stammered. Jackson nodded.

"Probably a good place to start. Check out the difficult task ahead!"

Bambam turned away, pulled his swimsuit out of his bag. Steeled himself again; let his boxers drop down his thighs to pool around his socked feet. He'd always felt a bit out of place in high school, his time in the pool leaving regular boxers feeling too baggy and, in preference, opting for tighter, more supportive boxer-briefs that hugged him more like a Speedo. Now, he had found, he was like most of the college guys he'd glanced around at changing for practice, the majority of the favoring tighter underwear.

He stepped into his suit, pulled it up and adjusted himself in its clinging, elastic confines. Once, back when he'd been thirteen or fourteen maybe, he'd been a little apprehensive about the relatively brief Speedos, but a few years of training a couple times a week had left more pressing issues, like keeping up with coach's demands for faster and faster laps without losing your lunch in the process.

Stepping back up onto the couch, he tried to steady his breathing as Jackson ran the sink, seemingly trying to get some warm water out of it. Eventually, though, he turned around, and Bambam steeled himself for laughter or even just some good-natured ribbing.

Instead, though, Jackson just looked over Bambam's crotch, nodded a little with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and then looked up to meet the younger guy's eyes.

"Yeah, I see what you mean." He scratched his nose. "Sometimes growing up is a real pain, right? Man, sometimes I wish I could go back to when I was fourteen and didn't have to shave or wax or do any of this crap."

Bambam nodded. "I just didn't even think.." he started, and then petered out. Jackson grinned, though.

"Just think, if it wasn't for being on the team, you might never have realized until, well, you were getting undressed in a slightly more..intimate situation." He winked. "Better in front of a load of dumb guys by the pool than in someone's bedroom, right?"

There was that blush again. Bambam nodded.

"Look, I know this might be uncomfortable, but you probably need to take them off, okay?" Jackson told him. "We need to buzz that madness down, right?"

Bambam nodded, sheepish and feeling more than a little foolish. Again, he slipped off the couch and then pushed down his trunks, fighting the urge to cover up his crotch with his hands. Instead, he pushed himself back up to perch on the edge, fingers gripping tightly at the seat.

Jackson turned from the counter, holding what Bambam recognized as an electric trimmer, probably intended for a beard or hair or something. The older boy tested out the charge, flicking it on momentarily and letting it buzz in his hand, then glanced down at his young subject's groin.

"Okay, I'm just gonna use this to take away the bulk of it, yeah?" He didn't wait for Bambam to reply, just flicked the trimmer back on and, using the back of his left hand to nudge the boy's thighs slightly further apart, swept the thrumming blades through the tufts.

Before long, scraps of tangled hair flecked Bambam 's thighs and the floor between his legs. Jackson's face had adopted a look of studied concentration, as he tried to make sure the hair around the base of Bambam 's cock wasn't quite as short as what was around the tops of his thighs.

For Bambam , though, there was a different issue to contend with; namely, that the trimmer sent vibrations through his crotch that simply couldn't be ignored. Jackson was doing his level best to make the whole process as clinically surgical in feel as he couldㅡnotwithstanding the fact that he had his face maybe a foot away from Bambam 's junkㅡbut that junk itself was refusing to play along with the act.

Instead, to his horror, he felt the beginning stirrings of an erection. Uncontrollable at the best of times, but now wantonly ignoring his attempts at mental distraction as it thickened and stretched between his legs. Initially resting on his balls, it was now lolling straight out; not a full hard-on, no, but certainly far from soft.

Add to that the fact that the whole trimming process tickled terribly, and Bambam was beginning to wish he'd stuck to a sensible, entirely clothed sport instead of joining the swim team.

It was on the third wriggle that Bambam heard Jackson hiss under his breath and mutter, "shit" between clenched teeth. 

He couldn't feel a cut or gouts of blood rushing from his groin, so he risked a look down.

"You move too much!" Jackson scolded, mock serious. "Now look what you've made me do."

Bambam could see a jagged notch cut into his much-reduced patch of hair above the root of his cock, where Jackson had jolted and trimmed out much more than intended. It almost looked like a fat comma.

"I'm just ticklish," Bambam conceded. Jackson rolled his eyes.

"Y'think?"

He put the trimmer down. Brushed his hands first on his jeans, then brusquely down Bambam's thighs, sweeping the hair onto the floor. It was a matter-of-fact gesture, yes, but it still sent a jolt down the young swimmer's prick.

"I guess we were done with that anyway," Jackson mused. "Gonna have to get in closer to finish the job."

He ran the tap again, then held out the bottle while the hot water started to come through. "You want to do the honors, or shall I?"

Bambam put his hands out, cupped, and Jackson drizzled a palm full of shaving oil into them. It was thick and smelled like pine.

"Tip, foam is a bad idea," Jackson explained. "You can't see what you're shaving, and that's bad news when it comes to the stuff down there"

The boy nodded with his hands still out, wondering what the next step was exactly. Jackson rolled his eyes.

"Just rub it in, okay?"

It was cold at first, and felt sticky, but eventually the oil began to warm to body temperature and smooth out, slicking through the remaining hair around Bambam 's groin and leaving it glistening and matted. He pulled up on his t-shirt, trying to avoid getting oil on the hem, but it kept slipping down again, and his oily hands weren't exactly helping.

"Look, let me" Jackson said, quietly. He took hold of the shirt and pulled it up, back over Bambam 's head until it was bunched around his upper arms and around the back of his neck. All of a sudden the boy felt particularly exposed, the full expanse of his chest down, across his lean, flat stomach, and his entire crotch on show.

There was no denying that Jackson was taking quick looks at him, either; just casual little snatched glances that Bambam knew from the locker room and communal showers. What seemed normal en-masse under a row of hissing showerheads, however, suddenly felt a whole lot more loaded when it was just him and the 21 year old.

Then there was the oil, and if Bambam had thought the buzz of the trimmer was bad news for keeping a calm dick, then rubbing oil around it was a step up in terms of potential embarrassment. He hadn't been able to resist a quick, surreptitious stroke with one greasy fist down his cock, and that had been enough to rouse it further.

Now, he was 90% on the way to a full-fledged erection, with nothing to hide it from sight. Bambam bit his lip as Jackson turned around holding the razor and saw the older youth look down at where his crotch was jutting out obscenely.

"Okay." Jackson seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I guess we can't ignore the, um, 'elephant in the room', can we." Bambam shook his head, minutely. "How about we just say that this isn't the first one I've seen, and that you've nothing to be ashamed of, and just try to work around it?"

Bambam nodded. How many dicks had Jackson seen? It wasn't the sort of question you could normally ask, though thisㅡalmost completely naked, oiled up and erectㅡwas hardly normal circumstances.

"I'm gonna start around your thighs," Jackson told him. "You may need to, well, hold things out of the way."

He got the message, quickly pushed his cock to one side with the palm of his hand. Jackson placed a hand on his left thigh, spreading it further open, and then gently positioned the head of the razor where the skin of his inner thigh met the crease of his groin.

The stroke, when it came, was measured and even, gliding neatly through the oily hairs and leaving bare flesh. Bambam stared down at Jackson's handiwork, feeling his dick pulse against his fingers, as the youth repositioned and scraped, repositioned and scraped, until the area was done.

When Bambam took his hand away, he could feel the extra slickness of pre-cum on his palm. The tip of his cock was glistening with it, balls tightening. He quickly tried to push it over to the other side, as Jackson moved to do the same around the other leg.

He jumped when Jackson ran his fingertips across the area, as he stood up from his crouch. "Feels good, smooth as silk I guess. So, what do you want to do about the rest? I mean, if it were me.."

Bambam waited a moment. 

"If it were you..what?" he finally asked.

Jackson shrugged. 

"Well, I'd do the rest, y'know. Underneath, that sort of thing. Clean up the top so you don't get anything showing up over the waist of your trunks."

That sounded comprehensive. "I mean, how far down do you go?" Bambam ventured. "Do you just, um, do it all?"

The swimmer chuckled. "Nah, not everything." He pulled down on the waist of his jeans, tugging underwear with it, so that Bambam could just see the sparse crop of hair above the root of his dick. "Wouldn't want to get cold."

Bambam nodded, sagely, and then realized Jackson was joking.

"I guess you could..Do it." he finally said. Jackson shrugged a reply.

"But you gotta realize, dude, this is gonna be a bit more, well, hands-on. No other way, y'know?"

Shit. Oh shit. And yet, Bambam could hardly change his mind now, not really, because that would just make him look at best like a wimp and, at worst, like he doubted why Jackson might touch him. And that would be a pretty shitty impression to give, seeing as how the guy had been nothing but helpful.

He nodded, not quite trusting his voice.

Jackson knelt down again, cocked his head as he surveyed the offending area. "I think we're just gonna start with your balls, okay man? Trickiest bit, I say."

Bambam was about to say something in response when he felt Jackson hand close around his scrotum. He just about stifled a gasp, choking it into a hiss instead, but the touch of the older guy on his sensitive, oiled-up parts was sending a storm of sensations up through his body.

Things only got worseㅡor more interestingㅡwhen Jackson started pulling the sensitive skin taut and then carefully dragging the razor across it. His brow furrowed in concentration, but Bambam was too busy watching wide-eyed as his cock throbbed above Jackson' hands, a swelling bead of pre-cum gathering at the tip.

"Ah…Jackson" he managed, and the other boy looked up just in time to see the juice trickle down Bambam 's fat, swollen shaft and across the back of his hand. "Fuck, I'm so sorry!" Bambam spluttered, mortified.

Jackson grinned. "Man, if I'd known I was going to get to know you like this, dude, I would've felt like you had to buy me dinner first!" He tugged, gently, on Bambam's balls, making his cock flop around drunkenly. The boy gasped.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself" He confessed, watching as the red, blood-bloated head of Bambam 's prick pulsed, skin taut. "Like I said, though, nothing to be ashamed of."

He carried on with his work, easing the head of the razor carefully around Bambam's balls until they were scraped clean. As he let go, he ran a fingertip up the curve of the teenager's shaft, feeling it tug against his touch.

"Should we sort that mess out?" he asked, finally, trailing his fingers through the hair above Bambam's dick and poking at the notch accidentally cut out. Bambam nodded.

Jackson paused for a moment, looking at the offending area with some concentration. Then, "Oh, fuck it," he mumbled half under his breath, and reached out and wrapped his fingers around Bambam 's cock.

The boy's hips jolted instantly off the bench, thighs clenching at the unfamiliar and intimate sensation. Jackson pulled his shaft down, as much as he could in its rigid state, and ran the oily fingers of his other hand through the jagged bush of hair left above it.

"Is thisㅡ" Bambam's voice was tense, his throat felt almost closed up tight in a fist's grip, as the combined feelings of Jackson's hand around his prick and his fingers slyly massaging oil into his tender groin sent waves of pleasure radiating out through his body.

Eventually, hand still holding Bambam's cock down and forcing the boy to thrust out his lower torso as he braced himself on his hands, Jackson snatched up the razor and began to dredge the head of it through the remaining hair. Bambam watched, mesmerized, as his skin gradually lost its fur, leaving him smooth and tingling.

Again, that look of concentration on Jackson's face as he tidied up the few stubborn hairs around the base of Bambam's shaft before using a scrap of towel to wipe the youth down.

"There," he said, "a bit more extreme than I'd intended, but I think you look pretty good."

Bambam looked down, to where his cock jutted out from its newly smooth home, still wetly oiled as it reared through Jackson' fist.

"..I look bigger." he said, eventually. Jackson grinned.

"And there you discover the ancient secret, dude; it looks bigger when there's nothing to hide it."

Bambam felt himself blushing again, but he was smiling too.

"Did you? I mean, when you were my age?" he asked the swimmer. Jackson shrugged, carefully flexed his fingers on Bambam's dick.

"Yeah, I guess. Now it just gets easier to keep it tidy, y'know? Anyway, size isn't everything."

Bambam looked down, past his taut body into the folds of material in Jackson's lap. Was he hard too? There were definitely shapes going on in the older guy's jeans that caught his eyes and could well suggest that Bambam wasn't the only one turned on in the room.

Then again, Bambam realized, wouldn't that be understandable? Jackson was the gay one, after all, not to mention the guy with his hand wrapped around another dude's cock. His achingly hard, pretty much throbbing cock.

He felt his hips twitch. Almost nothing, but he knew in that moment that Jackson had felt it too; knew instantly that some part of Bambam's bodyㅡprobably the part that was busy drooling pre-cum down across his fingersㅡwanted to hump and grind against his fist until he blew.

"You're eighteen, right?" Jackson asked. He sounded distracted, almost casual. Eyes fixed where Bambam's shaft emerged from the casual ring of his fingers. The boy nodded.

Then there was a hand on his balls, fingertips caressing the smooth, freshly shorn skin as they tightened and drew up close to his body. Jackson pulled down on his cock; fingers splayed each side as the skin stretched tight and glossy with oil, swollen head almost angrily red.

The hand on his balls moved to caress his glans, then, working slippery fingers around flesh as tight as a drum-skin. Bambam tried, and failed, to suppress a shudder as Jackson worked over the tip of his prick; sliding rough fingertips in the mix of shaving oil and the boy's own natural lube, tracing around the flared ridge.

I shouldn't be doing this, this is totally gay, Bambam 's brain was screaming, but his body was screaming just as loudly, louder, perhapsㅡto grind and rub himself against any part of Jackson he was touching, until he could finally get to that blessed relief.

"I know you want me to get you off, Bambam," Jackson said, voice quiet. He formed a ring with his fingers, let it bump and glide over the top inch or so of the shaft. "Bet you want to cum so bad, don't you."

He grunted in reply, threw an arm across his face and tasted the saltiness of sweat as a combination of embarrassment and horniness cranked up his body temperature almost as much as his libido. All the time, Jackson kept teasing his dick, alternating between fisting its length and squeezing around the head until Bambam thought he might burst.

"Just think," Jackson continued. "When they see you in the showers, when the other guys see your cock all smooth and shaved, they're going to know who did it. Do you think they're going to guess that after I finished, you practically fucked my hand?"

Bambam's teeth were clenched, body bowstring tight. He watched as Jackson carefully licked the pad of his thumbㅡwhich must by now taste of Bambamㅡand then rubbed it roughly across the curve of his knob. The sharp sensations fired jolts through his hips.

"JaㅡJackson..!" he stuttered, then hissed in surprise as the 21 year old slipped one greasy finger underneath his ass and, focusing the attentions of the other around the most sensitive parts of his cock, pushed a wet fingertip against his hole.

"So fuckin' tight" Jackson marveled, almost to himself, as Bambam rode the feeling to its logical conclusion, moaning as his ass clamped down on the half-finger Jackson managed to dig inside as three, four, five bolts of heavy cream shot from his dick and coated his chin and his chest. The boy twitched and bucked, stomach clenching taut.

Bambam panted, licking his lips and tasting the sharpness of his own cum while the rest of it oozed down his chin and slid wetly across his stomach. Jackson let his finger slide out, allowed Bambam's cock to loll heavily against his thigh.

"Good shot, kid." he smiled. Bambam was too breathless to reply; instead slumped back as Jackson stood up.

The older swimmer wiped his hands on the towel and glanced over at the boy.

"Look, Bambam, just so you know. I'm not some jerk-off toy for horny little straight boys. That was your free sample; if you're expecting any more, you've got to turn up in the mood to play."

He slid a hand down his jeans, rearranged himself, almost as if to punctuate his point. The length of Jackson's cock was clear across his hip.

"That means playing, not just sitting back and enjoying the ride." he continued.

Bambam nodded, not yet trusting his voice.

"Cause I could see us having some fun with those lips." Jackson mused, tracing a fingertip across Bambam's mouth, over his plush bottom lip and leaving a trail of cum around it. Bambam could smell the strong, musky scent of his arousal. He could guess what sort of fun Jackson had in mind.

Weirdly, though, the thought of it wasn't exactly a turn-off.

The older guy reached for a towel, tossed it over to the cum-slicked boy. "Are you freaking out?" There was an edge to his tone, Bambam thought, which hinted at a bad experience before, perhaps. He shook his head.

"Not freaking out." he muttered, ineffectually scrubbing at his stomach with the rough towel. Jackson's eyebrow raised, just a little. Now it was Bambam's turn to roll his eyes. "Come on, I'm not a kid."

Jackson shook his head. That smile was back.

"No, you're not." He rested his chin in his hand, tapped his finger against his lip as if deep in thought. Bambam couldn't help but notice it was the same finger that had slid cum across his own mouth, just moments before. "Hey, at least you're not gonna look like the beast next time at training."

Bambam laughed. The towel wasn't cleaning so much as just smearing cream across his torso, adding its share of lint along the way, and so he gave up on it.

"Thanks. I mean, thanks for helping me..Everything not just theㅡ" He paused, shook his head. "You know what I mean."

Jackson nodded, winked. "Always important to get to know the junior members of the team more closely," he said, mock-seriously. The younger boy nodded, feigning the same seriousness.

"I hope you think about just how helpful you've been next time you see me in my suit." He said back, surprised a little at how forward he was being.

"Oh, I will." Jackson glanced up at the clock, shook his head. "Cover it up, Bambam. It's time we left, unless you want to be locked up in here all night with me."

Deep down, Bambam thought that wouldn't be such a bad idea.

**Author's Note:**

> R A N T.
> 
> Why aren't their more jackbam fics? Where are the jb enthusiast? Come out the woodwork PLEASE WE NEED YOU! Why are we always in drought???????? Someone anyone, put your fingers to work! atleast try pls? :'( i cant do it alone..& i don't do long fics(sorry)and i know ppl like a good slowburn something i cannot give you but i just know someone else could! We should just start commissioning ahg writers to write jackbam XD anyway yea..
> 
> This fic may or may not have more chapters depending if its loved up on and if you want :p see ya


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